METAL
by dreamerchaos
Summary: Sometimes one individual's choices can bring down everything. One action can change the world. Based of the 2007 movie. Overall slash. BeexSam.
1. Chapter 1

_**Transformers Fic: M.E.T.A.L Chapter One: Bronze Part 1/2**_  
Title: M.E.T.A.L  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None (at least not right now.)  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MC-17. Be Warned.  
Pairing: Primarily BeexSam. SamxMikaela hints. Also non-con pairings, but that will be mentioned in their appropriate settings.  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
Summary: Sometimes one individual's choices can bring down everything. One action can change the world.

Title: M.E.T.A.L  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None (at least not right now.)  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MC-17. Be Warned.  
Pairing: Primarily BeexSam. SamxMikaela hints. Also non-con pairings, but that will be mentioned in their appropriate settings.  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
Summary: Sometimes one individual's choices can bring down everything. One action can change the world.

In Chapter One, rather than face off with Bonecrusher, Optimus Prime maintains his focus on protecting his fellow soldiers, and the organic charges that he has sworn to protect.

In this chapter, there will be BeexSam hints, mild SamxMikaela. In part 2, the main one will be BlackoutxSam (Be patient and wait! There is a reason for this). Optimus will play a role as well.

Chapter One

BRONZE

Part One:

The Past

_The battle within the concrete and metal jungle of Mission City had taken its share of oil and blood. Lennox and Sector Seven's teams could only manage to hold back the wave of Decepticons for so long._

Mikaela used her skills to hotwire a vehicle to drag Bumblebee, wounded and paralyzed, from the raging streets, the tow truck barely avoiding the massive craters and twisted metal as she wove the vehicle around the wreckage and pulled Bumblebee out of the Decepticons' range of fire.

Lennox dragged Sam forward, shouting at him to run, ordering the young man not to look back. "Get the Cube into military hands or a lot of innocent people are going to die!"

Starscream roared across the smoke-choked sky, releasing a barrage of heavy fire. Several soldiers were not able to escape the burning thunder that tore them to pieces. A few soldiers, barely stumbling out of Starscream's range of fire, ran straight into Devastator.

Lennox screamed, along with the last few members of his team, repeatedly firing his weapon at the massive Decepticon, uselessly trying to draw the beast's attention away while his companions were crushed within massive metal hands. Devastator roared, flinging his head back, human gore raining from between his clenched fingers. Human civilians screamed in terror as blood speckled their arms and faces, the remains of the soldiers painting the tall building walls.

Ratchet shouted a warning, pushing Ironhide to perform a hasty retreat as Megatron fell from the sky, landing within the tight corridor of the street, sweeping massive claws across the ground, raking aside vehicles and humans alike.

"It's Megatron!" He bellowed, waving the weapon specialist ahead of him to keep going. Ironhide refused to leave his partner, shouting at the medic to "Come on!". Ratchet faltered as he staggered after his taller companion. "Fall back!"

Jazz, cut off by the leader of the Decepticons, stood his ground, firing his gun at the massive monster that swarmed towards him.

Furious at the insect's attempts to hamper his onslaught, Megatron drove Jazz into the ground, dragging the wounded soldier across the concrete as he took to the air, half-turning into his alien jet form. Sweeping through the air like a gigantic bird of prey, Jazz dangled from his grip, helplessly firing at Megatron's limbs in an effort to fall free of the merciless talons.

Ratchet and Ironhide forced themselves not to look back as their companion fought bravely. Instead, they ran alongside Sam, protecting him with their own bodies as the young organic male ran for the immediate safety of the nearest large building... carrying precious cargo, the AllSpark tucked between thin arms, clutched against a wildly heaving chest as the boy ran for his life.

Valiantly Jazz cursed Megatron to the Pit and beyond, screaming as large talons grasped shoulders and legs, beginning to pull steadily. He could feel gears and wires scream in agony, torso threatening to separate.

Just then, before Jazz's body was literally torn into two shattered parts, Optimus threw himself forward from the shelter of an adjacent alleyway and fired two direct shots. Megatron roared, shoulder burning red-hot and abdomen spitting flames as he clutched at the two gaping wounds. Seizing the chance, Jazz kicked straight up, knocked loose. He fell, and with one hand slowed his descent towards the ground by clutching at the building's face, fingers dragging deep grooves through windows and tile until he crashed into the street, stunned but in one piece.

Optimus Prime drew a bead on Megatron, but the shot was ruined as Bonecrusher rammed into him from behind, throwing his aim off far enough for Megatron to duck the weapon's discharge.

One soldier saved, but others soon anointed by whirling blades and flame. Devastator stumbled, momentarily blinded by the white-hot flare from the numerous cannons smashing into his chest. Shouting, the Decepticon summoned for his fellow warriors.

Ratchet and Ironhide, wounded by Starscream's firepower and too far away to possibly assist the outnumbered soldiers, watched in horror as Lennox and Epps fell to their knees, knocked down by the force of Blackout landing and sweeping around the whirling blades of his main heavy weapon. Lennox screamed in agony as the blade ran down the length of his spine, centimeters from slashing into his spinal cord.

Lennox would survive. But he would never be able to walk without a distinct limp.

Epps was far too close to Blackout to avoid critical damage. The blades slashed mercilessly across his face, the heat of the metal burning the retinas of both eyes.

Jazz, barely able to transform from the tension of his strained and bruised insides, managed to cover the long distance, leaping onto Blackout, pounding both fists brutally into the soldier's face. Autobot and Decepticon cursed the other as they stumbled away from the bleeding or dying organic soldiers. Blackout, spitting furious threats, didn't waste any time, and leapt upwards, transformed midair into a MH-53 aircraft. Jazz jerked back, barely avoiding decapitation as Blackout flew over his head, fleeing the vicinity of the incoming United States Military aircrafts approaching the city.

Lennox crawled towards the wounded sergeant, pulling him to safety, laying the man's head into his lap while the wounded soldier howled in pain, tears and blood pouring down his face and ruined eyes.

Optimus and Megatron met head-to-head, metal shrieking against metal. Optimus furiously pushed the other combatant back, hunkering down to protect Sam.

"Sam! Aim the Cube at my Spark!"

"Wh-What about you?"

"NOW!"

Megatron roared like a demon out of Hell, rushing from the opposite flank, hands reaching to tear the Cube from Sam.

Without thinking, Sam fell back, and as Megatron drew close, closer, he thrust the Cube upwards into Megatron's chest cavity.

The Present

Sam leaned his back against the wall of his bedroom, Mojo curled within the blissful warmth of his arms after being given his pain pill for the day. Mikaela sat in the narrow desk chair, absently spinning back and forth as she glanced through one of Sam's Playstation magazines. Both said nothing, simply sitting in close quarters.

He sighed, feeling guilty for not enjoying Mikaela's company; but he couldn't dispel the loneliness of not having his guardian with him right now.

It had already been over two weeks since the Mission City crisis. The American government concealed the truth behind the battle, calling it a terrorist strike. Megatron's body, swiftly hauled out of the public and media's sight, had been plunged into its sanctioned tomb at within the maw of the Laurentian Abyss.

The Autobots met with Secretary Keller and the President of the United States, expressing the need for the government's awareness and assistance against future Decepticon attacks. Realizing how badly they needed the large sentient beings, the President had immediately authorized that designation and construction of a high-security facility to house their alien guests. Optimus Prime and his companions were extremely pleased and grateful for Keller's assistance in providing them with various sites of interest that would not only be completely out of the public's sight and access, but would also provide future opportunities for expansion. If things continued to develop as they were currently, within years the Autobots could possibly build their own city on their new home.

The only downside to all of this was that Bumblebee, like the other Autobots, had had to join their leader in inspecting the possible sites available for the future base, as well as meet with security officials and be registered.

_____

Yesterday

_"An entire week!" Sam exclaimed. Bee waved his hands frantically, shushing his outburst, trying to sooth his charge._

"I am sorry. However, my presence is required, as well as the others. Please do not be angry with me, Sam." Bumblebee implored the young man, crouched down to allow for Sam to peer directly into bright blue optics.

"Bee!" Sam stopped his friend, guilt eating at his gut. "I'm not MAD at you. Really. It's just that-" He faltered, suddenly feeling embarrassed, tempted to kick half-heartedly at the dirt beneath his shoes.

'Great, now I feel like a five year old.'

Sam sighed, lifting his gaze and meeting his friend's worried pair. "I'm just...I'm going to miss you. I know it's stupid. It's only a week. But..." He growled, frustrated at how he kept stumbling over every word.

"I came close to losing you enough times already!" He finally admitted, his worst fear bared to the world.

He waited, anticipating-- What? Scorn? Embarrassment? Pity?-- Instead, he was startled by Bee releasing a small soothing electric hiss of unfamiliar lyrics.

'Why Have You Waited  
To Embrace Me, My Dear?'

Bee's large black fingers carefully, painstakingly delicate for a sixteen foot autonomic robot being, brushed his cheek, and lightly chucked his chin up from his chest.

'Cold Is Your Silence  
Denying What Is Real'

Sam sighed, feeling childish over worrying about his friend. Yeah, like the big guy would get into worse trouble than Sam had ever gotten into in his short life-span. "You'd better not have too much fun without me." He muttered, poking sharply at Bee's large chest. "If you do, I'll...I'll sic Mojo on you." He threatened.

Bumblebee rose to his feet after one last brush of his fingers against Sam's cheek, as if trying to brush the worries away. "If I am authorized to, I could bring back digital scans of the base that Optimus Prime and Secretary Keller will decide to be our future facility.

"While we examine the facilities, you will not be without protection, Sam. Secretary Keller has assured us that officers will constantly monitor both you and Mikaela, and make certain that you will both be safe from harm."

Sam blanched at the though of having to deal with more officers in black, but was excited at the possibility of seeing what the Autobots' future home would be. "Hey, great!" Sam bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, shoelaces snapping together. He paused, suddenly catching a forlorn tone in his friend. "Wait. Why not call it your future home? Won't you and the others have to stay there for a while, at least initially? You know, to make sure the place is up to code and running smoothly."

"Sam." Bumblebee stopped his young charge's babbling. "My home is with you, and nowhere else."

Caught off-guard by the sheer honesty and promise, Sam couldn't muster up the strength to wave goodbye as Bee received a call from Ironhide, indicating that his presence was needed.

_____

Yesterday

"They'll be all right, Sam."

"Wha?" Sam jumped, jerked from his deep thoughts.

Mikaela grinned at how flustered Sam appeared coming from his light doze, his startled jerking motions jolting Mojo awake. The Chihuahua shook his head, ears flopping and bulbous eyes blinking away sleep.

"Mother hen." She teased. "If you don't stop worrying, Bee just might pull a Ratchet and do a complete body scan. He'd probably leave early if he senses how stressed out you are."

"Aww, jeez, bring that up again." Sam mumbled, glaring at Mikaela over Mojo's soft fur, the Chihuahua lavishing his chin with sloppy kisses. "It was bad enough trying to explain to Ratchet that I don't need to be scanned every week to make sure I am a healthy, happy human male."

Actually, Sam had to assure Ratchet daily that, 'Yes in fact it was normal for young males to sleep over eight hours a day. And no, he didn't need any help looking over the food diary' that Ratchet so helpfully downloaded after keeping tabs on Sam's intake. Jeez, like a person can't survive off of pizza and soda for a couple of days. And he had eaten those candy bars because he needed to be a happy boy after getting a healthy — and completely legal! — caffeine-charged high to finish that twelve-page paper for Tuesday's English class.

He still flushed beet red when Ratchet supplied the benefits of daily consumption of fiber and how well human intestines and stomach responded to being frequently flushed clean by the healthy vegetables and beans. Too much information!

Mikaela laughed, his girlfriend's voice beautiful to Sam's ears. "He does tend to take his job seriously." She fluttered her eyes at Sam, cooing in concern. "If you have any problems with 'Sam's Happy Time', I'm sure he'd be able to help you."

Sam flushed red, inciting more laughter as Mikaela teased him. Swallowing indignant sputtered refusals, he grinned right back at her, equally smug. "Careful. Don't forget that I know that Ratchet has scans of both of us, incidentally _without any clothing_. Might have to ask him for a copy to staple on my walls."

Sam had his turn at laughs, Mikaela flushing all the way to her roots. She mock glared.

"You are both such perverts."

"Don't blame me! I can't help it if Ratchet didn't quite get 'Invasion of Personal Space'."

Mikaela opened her mouth to fire back, enjoying their easy banter, when Mojo suddenly reared up, hair spiking into short bristles as he began growling and barking furiously, facing the doorway. His sharp yaps lifted his tiny body, the Chihuahua snarling at an unseen threat (Or probably a dust bunny, given how spastic Mojo went after being dosed up on his pain pills).

"Mojo! Hush!"

Mojo refused to calm down, leaping from Sam's arms, bandaged paw scrabbling at the wood floor as he bolted for the open door.

"Mojo!" Sam leapt to his feet, rushing after the dog. "Get back here!" He caught sight of Mikaela rising from the chair, obviously about the join him in pursuit. "It's okay, Mikaela, I got it--I'llberightback!" He called back, taking the stairs down two at a time.

"Sam!" His mother yelped from within the kitchen, leaping back, startled by her son's sudden appearance. She hastily balanced the hot pan, the casserole cooling from the oven. She narrowed her eyes at her son's panting face, and then looked at the small swinging doggy door that Mojo had just darted through. "You're not harassing Mojo, are you, Sam? He can't play too hard because of that leg!"

"Mom!" Sam cried. "I didn't do anything. He just freaked and ran from my room."

"Oh that poor baby." She sighed, "Maybe he needed to go to the bathroom. You know how those pain pills mess with the poor little guy." She turned away from Sam, carefully placing dinner onto the wooden stand for it to cool down. "More than likely he's making a fuss because your father is messing around the tool shed looking for some weed killer. Those dandelions keep springing up everywhere!"

"They're just weeds, mom." Sam said, stepping around her as he followed Mojo's mad getaway.

"Don't get me started on the aphids, either!" His mom called after him.

His hand wrapped around the door handle, beginning to turn --

And the door exploded into pieces, sending wood and debris ricocheting.

His mother — falling under the explosive force sending utensils and plates shattering to the floor — echoed Sam's scream. The house's foundation shuddered, dust and grit raining from the ceiling and dry wall.

"SAM!" She cried out.

Sam coughed, rolling onto his side, spitting up dust and dirt. His face stung, splinters pinpricking his cheeks and forehead. "M-mom...y 'kay?" He spat around the grit in his mouth.

His mom began crying weakly, clutching at the bleeding cut upon her temple. "I'm okay, Sammy."

_'She hasn't called me that in years.'_ Sam reached for her, fingers intertwining as he whispered soothing words as his mom cried softly in pain and in shock.

Another explosion in the distance rocked them again. Sam shouted a warning as the windows blew apart, a shower of glass shards peppering their heads and hands.

Ears ringing, Sam couldn't tell if the sonic roar outside was from the explosion or from the telephone poles exploding, wood pillars collapsing raining sparks and creating small pyres in neighbors' yards.

The roof groaned, straining to hold itself together. Beams buckled under the heavy weight sinking upon them, the foundation caving. The entire building couldn't seem to stop shaking. It was like an earthquake held the house tightly within its grip, snapping forwards and back.

One the second floor, a familiar voice screamed in pain and terror. _"SAM!!"_

"Mikaela!" Sam forced his body past the pain, ignoring the bite of glass and splinters sinking in the meat of his palms. He pushed with his hands onto his feet. "Get outside, Mom! Get outside and call the police!" He barked, holding onto the wall for support and every piece of furniture rocked forcefully towards the right, nearly knocking him onto his rear end.

"Mikaela! Get downstairs! We have to get outside!" Sam shouted, stumbling to the bottom of the stairs.

He made it up the stairs several steps.

A loud roar, magnesium and nova white flames blew apart the hallway at the top of the stairs. Fire licked at the ceiling, wood and dry wall ripped upwards, burning to dust beneath intense heat.

Sam fell and curled both legs into his chest, protecting his head and front.

"MIKAELA!"

Something beneath the house snapped loudly, and Sam couldn't help but picture dry bones cracking into splinters. The flooring buckled geysers of grit shooting between the wood boards. The stairs sank several inches, the middle forming a concave crater.

"...mikaela.." Sam groaned, pushing forward on hands and knees.

Hoping, praying, he looked up towards the second floor.

_'oh god no, Mikaela!'_

The second floor was _gone_.

The top of the stairs ended facing the endless nighttime sky, opalescent stars shimmering mutely through the mist of black smoke and glowing red and yellow flames, silent witnesses to the destruction of the second story floor.

A blast of hot wind struck Sam across the face, heat pouring down from roaring engines as the F-22 plane slowly descended from above. Somersaulting acrobatically in mid-air, the aircraft transformed, and Starscream landed effortlessly on the jagged edge of the crumbling building.

Sam fell backwards, and by good fortune was saved by his awkward tumble when Starscream dove forward, narrowly fitting his arm down the narrow expanse of the stairway, missing Sam by mere inches. Starscream bared sharp fangs in a fury, tearing bone-white shards of wood from the stairs as the hand flexed, exerting his frustration at just missing his prey.

_"SAMMY!!"_

Starscream's head whipped towards the sharp scream, arm rising, the muzzle of the gun flashing up from the compartment of his forearm. He aimed at the female organic visible through the jagged doorway, bleeding heavily and pulling herself up from the kitchen floor knuckles white as she gripped the counter.

Sam screamed, diving forward, aiming to use every ounce of strength in his body to shove the muzzle of the gun off target, away from his mother, at any cost. "NO! Mom, run!"

The suicide rush at Starscream was wasted. Blackout, like a dark vengeful god adorned by metal blades and ivory teeth, tore apart the wall that separated the kitchen from the backyard. Blades spinning, Blackout lashed the length of his arm across the entire expanse of the large room.

Blood splashed the floor, a small surprised gasp falling breathlessly from Judy's lips as her body fell, suddenly so terribly weak. Lacerations covered her from head to toe, a red pool widening beneath her tangled legs as she collapsed. Wet muscles glistened between split lips of flesh, loose pieces flapping, hanging by mere tendrils of skin. The fingers of her hand trembled, stretching out towards her son. Her soft eyes were glassy, bead of crimson dotting her eyelashes. "Sammy..." She whispered, chest heaving to expel the words.

Time fell still and silent. Sam collapsed, falling once more onto his hands and knees. He couldn't tear his eyes away, words escaping him as he mouthed tonelessly, _'Mom, mom, mom, mommy, Mommy!'_

Listlessly he felt pain enwrap him around the entirety of his waist, talons curling together and caging him. Starscream reared back, and Sam felt as if he bore invisible wings and flew effortlessly into the sky. Dangling helplessly, unresisting, rising high up above the remains of his house.

_"BLACKOUT, DON'T LEAVE ANYTHING LEFT STANDING."_ Starscream's command, the intent to destroy the last vestiges of the home Sam knew and loved, drew no response from the pale boy; Sam still unable to erase the sight of his mother, such an energetic, bright, beautiful woman, lying pale and broken amid debris and crimson. Her arm trembled, fingers clenching into a fist. _'She's still alive!'_

_'Mom, get up! You have to run!'_

_"YOU, INSECT, ARE MORE USE TO ME ALIVE."_

A precise touch to the base of his skull, releasing a sharp electric charge, and then everything suddenly cut off

_AGONY_

and he felt nothing, and---

_____

Somewhere

I...I can't feel anything..

A haze of white and gray floated around him, viscous sea that suffocated the entire range of sight. Darker shadows hovered above him like Leviathans, sliding across the pale sea of white, oil upon water. His back lay on something ice-cold, burning like nitrogen against his bare skin.

Shapes leaned close together, deferring to each other in an alien language. The detached, cold voice — a scientist casually observing his pet project — echoed, as if bouncing off stainless steel.

_"SCANS COMPLETE. IT IS CONFIRMED THAT RESIDUAL RADIATION FROM THE CUBE. NO OBVIOUS SIDE EFFECTS TO THE ORGANIC MALE SPECIMEN'S PHYSICAL BODY."_

Who's there..

Someone help me.

Bee.

Bee, help me.

_"CONFIRMATION SIGNIFIES THAT WE WILL PROGRESS TO THE SECOND PHASE._

"BEGIN SECOND PHASE IN ROUGHLY ONE MINUTE. EXPOSURE TO MY OWN SPARK AND MY COMPANION'S, BLACKOUT, SHOULD PROVIDE ENOUGH RADIATION TO EXERT RAPID CHANGE.

"CHANCE OF FAILURE: 94%. POSSIBILITY OF SPECIMEN'S DEATH: 96%."

Help me...

A large, blue and white sun burst to life above him, burning his eyes and turning him blind and extinguishing the cold that cocooned his body.

_"FIRST SPARK IS NOW BEING EXPOSED TO THE ORGANIC. EXPOSURE OF SECOND SPARK, BEGIN."_

A second sun roared to life, joining the first. Both hovered above, a pair of burning eyes, tearing open the heavens and scorching the earth beneath.

Pain! Pain beyond imagining, pain beyond description split open his chest. Lances impaled his lungs, pincushioning the spastic rapidly working sacs.

_It hurts!!_

_"SPECIMEN'S HEART RATE NOTICEABLY ACCELERATING. LUNG CAPACITY IS AT ITS MAXIMUM."_

Lava and brimstone etched through every vein and cell body, encrypting a patchwork of pain and fury upon his trembling body. Biting with tiny teeth, little piranhas glutting on fresh meat, gumming the bleeding lines of tissue that wept in agony.

_"EXCESS BLOOD IS VISIBLE. EVERY NOTED ORIFICE OF THE ORGANIC'S BODY IS NOW EXCRETING COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF FLUID. THE BODY MAY BE REJECTING THE LARGE DOSES OF RADIATION._

"EARLIER ASSUMPTION OF FAILURE: 94%. NEWEST ACCOUNT FOR FAILURE: 99%. POSSIBILITY OF SPECIMEN'S DEATH: 99%."

A fist closed around the fluttering fist-sized muscle beating beneath his rib cage, tightening, and drawing inexorably tight. Like a crimson robin beating at ivory bars, begging to be let free, his heart raced and fluttered.

_"SPECIMEN IS EXPERIENCING CARDIAC ARREST."_ The voice droned, bored by the body's slow death.

Little fire ants, biting, nipping with their tiny pincers, rustled beneath the subdermal layer of skin. Red starbursts dotted the uppermost layer of flesh, nerve ends exploding, veins popping from the rising pressure compacting internal organs.

Pain flooded up his lungs and esophagus, shards of glass slicing him open all the way up.

The pressure was too great. He was going to split wide open.

_"WAIT."_

One massive convulsion rocked him entirely. He shook, body rolling in a seizure. The pressure mounted, little bombs imploding inside his body. Audibly his body popped, mass crowning, pushing his skin wide open, pushing forward viscous rich oil, coating every inch that it could grasp with thin black fingers.

_"EXPERIENCING POSITIVE RESPONSE. NOTE THAT PRESENCE OF CYBERTRONIAN PROTOFORM STRUCTURE IS EMERGING FROM THE ORGANIC SHELL."_

Coiled metal gleamed and bursts free, glistening like a newborn, slick edges shucking off loose strips of needless organic flesh.

_"CONFIRMED SUCCESS. THE CUBE'S RADIATION HAS ADDED ENOUGH INFLUENCE. THE ORGANIC SPECIMEN'S BODY ACTED AS A CRUCIBLE. WITH ADDITIONAL RADIATION FROM TWO CYBERTRONIAN SPARKS, A NEWLY FORMED PROTOFORM IS EMERGING._

"PROTOFORM BEARS UNIQUE MARKINGS SIMILAR TO THE GLYPHS RECORDED ON THE ALLSPARK. FURTHER EXAMINATION IS NECESSARY.

"NEW PROTOFORM ALREADY SHOWING SIGNS OF GROWING. MEASURED AT FIVE FEET AND TEN INCHES IN HEIGHT, THE PROTOFORM IS NOW MEASURING AT SIX FEET AND NINE NICHES. PROGRESSION OF GROWTH IS NOTED. GROWTH RATE INDICATES THAT PROTOFORM MAY REACH HEIGHT OF TEN TO TWELVE FEET."

Sam's eyes flashed open. Upon the canvas of the metal landscaped roof above him, a broad screen ran diagnostics and numbers, downloading and recording the information flooding his memory banks.

Lines of text ran across the screen:

SYSTEMS ONLINE

DESIGNATION?

DESIGNATION?

DESIGNATION?


	2. Chapter 2

_**Title: M.E.T.A.L : Chapter One: Bronze Part 2/2**_  
Title: M.E.T.A.L  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None (at least not right now.)  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MC-17. Be Warned.  
Pairing: Primarily BeexSam. SamxMikaela hints. Also non-con pairings, but that will be mentioned in their appropriate settings.  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
Summary: Sometimes one individual's choices can bring down everything. One action can change the world.

Part Two:

_____

_____

Awake.

Not awake.

_'I'm blind. Everything is pitch black.'_

Pressure drug along the smooth lines of face plates. Cold claws ran over the edge of his jaw, creating a dull metal peal.

"You are finally out of stasis. Now...turn on your optics, soldier." The voice commanded.

Sam startled as his eyes flashed... No, not flashed... All of a sudden, they were wide open, and when he tried to blink, he found an absence of eyelids. Fully awake, with not an ounce of tiredness or ache from being rudely ripped from sleep.

Starscream leaned over him, massive and dangerous in such close quarters. In response, Sam leaned back. Whatever he lay upon preventing him from inching back, but the effort was apparent. Starscream leered, chuckling softly at Sam's obvious discomfort and distrust.

"Now is that anyway to act? After all, we are on such _intimate terms."_

Sam coughed, metal rattling deep in his throat. "Don--don't get..'ur..h-hop--hopes up." He managed, lips and tongue not working together, every motion out of sequence with their appropriate partner.

Starscream hummed thoughtfully, rising, circling Sam's prone form. A clawed hand remained under Sam's chin as he circled, slowly, disappearing outside the other's range of sight, and reappearing again. "As my pet project, you need to have a bit more respect."

He raked his nails down Sam's chest, metal screaming, echoing the sharp cry that erupted from Sam's throat. With immense effort, limbs trembling badly, weak as a newborn's, Sam wrapped a hand around Starscream's wrist, stopping the hand from tearing him wide open.

The sight of a deep bronze and black metallic hand clutched around Starscream's silver wrist drew him tight, stiffening in horror. His hand, loosened by shock, slackened enough for Starscream to patiently pull his limb free.

"Wh-what did you do-oo..." Sam demanded, fingers flexing wide. He couldn't comprehend how the metal hand and forearm could possibly be connected to his body. Lifting his head, feeling like a literal ton was strapped onto his shoulders, he rose up far enough to scan the rest of his body.

Lean and coated in silver, bronze, and obsidian, his entire body was a complex mixture of metal and moving parts. Almost exactly similar to the forms of Optimus Prime and the other Autobots when they had first arrived on the planet before downloading the body design of each respective vehicles.

However, along the bronze lines covering the expanse of his hips, up the line of his midriff, and down the outside of his arms and legs, indistinct glyphs were etched. Black metal underlined the bronze sections, making the two metallic components contrast sharply. Silver peaked out from where the joints of his metal body interconnected.

Finding strength he hadn't possessed moments ago, Sam lunged forward, throwing himself at Starscream. The Decepticon was startled enough by his actions for Sam to get in close enough to wrap his hands around the Decepticon's throat. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Sam screamed, squeezing with all he was worth.

Metal flashed to his left and Starscream's hand snapped forward, hitting where shoulder met neck. Pain flared, flooding his senses.

Starscream's other hand encased his throat, shoving him flat upon his back.

Regardless of how fast Sam had managed to move, he learned an important lesson: Not only did Starscream outweigh him, but easily surpassed him by nearly six feet in height.

"Cease your theatrics." Starscream's warning was matched by a brutal clench of his hand. "I've already wasted enough time waiting for you to pull yourself out of stasis. Now that I see how rebellious you are, I have decided that another course of action must take place before you will be...suitable...for following my orders, as your commanding officer."

"Fuck...you..." Sam hissed.

"Your rebelliousness is not attractive, nor is it appreciated." Starscream released a snort of derision, releasing Sam. Sam collapsed, grasping at his sore throat.

"Unfortunately for you, I have other projects that require my immediate attention. However, I believe I can trust Blackout to perform the necessary task. While he does not have anywhere near the finesse that I possess, I assure you that he will perform adequately and be done in no time."

As if summoned by name alone, Blackout drew to stand beside Starscream. He appeared bored, optics momentarily running over Sam with cool interest. "Do you wish for me to wipe his memory banks?" Blackout inquired.

"Primus, no." Starscream barked. "We would have to start from scratch, and that will take far longer than planned. Hack into the mainframe, disable the firewalls, and upload as many viruses as you see fit. I want _disabling_ viruses only, in the possible scenario where he may resist future orders. Also, download any relevant information that may be useful for controlling him."

"Only disabling viruses?" Blackout reported, seeming disappointed.

Starscream leaned forward, snarling into Blackout's optics. Blackout reared away from the larger mech, dreading the Decepticon fighter venting his rage with his fists. "If any of the viruses cause a critical meltdown, I'll personally melt down your slagging hide and use the remains to design a soldier who knows how to follow direct orders. Is that clear?"

Blackout bowed his head, properly cowed. "Yes, Lord Starscream."

"I'll return within three cycles." Starscream warned. "Don't disappoint me."

"Yes Sir." Starscream turned, clearly dismissing the other Decepticon. He strode for the single double doors leading into the massive lab, hitting the panel and stepping through as the large metal slabs split open, spreading wide to allow for his broad body to pass. Disappearing from sight, the doors' sensors blinked, allowing the panels to slam shut.

_'This is bad.'_ As unobtrusively as possible, Sam made a quick scan of the lab. As feared, there were only the main doors that provided entry or exit. Sam was lying one a broad metal bed, one of three situated along the farthest wall from the doors. Roughly assembled computer screens, large and small -- upgraded keyboards seemingly welded underneath monitors -- and miles of wires and cords hung in mishmash vines across two adjacent walls, machines chattering and humming in their private electric language. No cords or wires were attached to his body, not hampering any movements, but he had one large Decepticon between him and his only escape route. _'This is really bad.'_

Blackout approached, hands reaching towards Sam.

In an instant, Sam rolled off the opposite side of the berth, the crash of his body upon the floor deafeningly loud. Faster than he ever been capable of doing in his human body, he hit the ground and simultaneously rolled upright onto his feet.

For such awkward looking, heavy metal limbs, they followed his commands fluidly; each passing microsecond providing more control and balance, awkwardness flowing out of his body with each intake of oxygen -- _'Am I even __breathing__? Does this body have lungs?'_

Diving for the door, he only made it five steps before massive black arms swept him into the air, legs physically flying off the ground.

Far from gentle, Blackout threw Sam back from where he had fled. Stumbling backwards and falling, the back of Sam's head...helm?...cracked against the edge of the bed. Stunned, both ears...antennas...ringing, his legs failed to respond, couldn't bear his weight. Sam's head dropped, chin against his chest, moaning in pain.

The palm of Blackout's hand smashed against his temple, snapping his head back, cracking the back of his head once more against the metal bed.

"Nnnnn..." Sam moaned, hands clutching at his throbbing skull.

His entire body groaned like rusted scaffolding as Blackout's full weight fell upon him, pinning the smaller and slimmer form. Ignoring Sam's weak attempts fighting to push him away Blackout dug claws into the barely visible seam of his chest, physically cracking it open, spreading both halves apart.

Small gears and components screamed, cracking under the brutal ripping motion. Where his heart had recently sat, a round chamber and glowing Spark pulsing sapphire blue created a halo between their bodies.

Seemingly satisfied by his aggressive tactic, desired outcome attained, Blackout pushed Sam down, fingers spread over the other's optics and temple. With his other hand, the Decepticon popped open his own chest, revealing a swirling red Spark that burned hotter than a sun. _'It's not right...the light...the light was ivory and turquoise...it was so beautiful, this isn't right...'_

Surrounding the malevolent Spark, dozens of sinuous wires danced to an invisible tune, black snakes reaching towards Sam's chassis. _"Initiating Connection."_ Blackout growled, thrusting forward, grasping Sam by his shoulders. Chests and Spark casings met.

The impact stung. Pain shot like fireworks, Blackout's cables digging into his chest, digging deeper beyond the Spark casing, curling inside and finding access ports. Cables cracked open the smooth edges, providing quick entree. Streams of data began, dotting his screens. _ACCESS CONFIRMED_. Locked in, Blackout snarled in dark pleasure, pushing forward, purposely drawing a cry of pain as the grating contact of their Sparks made Sam cringe, while Blackout's systems sang.

It....hurt beyond words. The initial contact delivered a small, momentary pleasure that was quickly eclipsed by the poisonous, cutting shadow crashing into his Spark... his damn soul! He retched, suffocating by the noxious bile pouring through their connection. Maximum pain with minimum effort, Blackout's only priority was to create absolute distress, the Decepticon delighted by Sam's agony. Absorbing the progressive high voltage currents ripping him from the core, Sam quaked embraced in an epileptic fit, mainframe unable to bear with the streaming data as the Decepticon hacked into his systems.

Their Spark connection allowed access both ways. While the Decepticon mercilessly scoured through his memories, raping Sam's mind as he went, Sam unintentionally lashed out and delved into Blackout's memory banks.

It was worse than he could have ever dreamed.

_This wasn't the first time Blackout had ever forced a Spark connection._

Unique even to Decepticons, Blackout possessed qualities that made him a dangerous spy and infiltrator and an equally high security threat. Like Frenzy, Blackout could download megabytes of data, stealing protected files, while uploading viruses that corroded the security walls standing guard valiantly defending private Autobot networks.

The Decepticon used his abilities for other more selfish purposes, hacking into his victim while he raped the struggling Cybertronian. The cables accessed terminals and ports that few Cybertronians had the honor of seeing, let alone touching.

The Autobot, caught by Blackout's surprise ambush, cried out in agony, metallic red face twisted as he struggled helplessly. His weapon lay just out of reach, one arm crippled at the elbow by one of Blackout's blades, imbedded through the main joint. "Primus, save me." He sobbed, trying to shove Blackout out of his ports, away from his trembling Spark.

Blackout roared in ecstasy, riding the defenseless Autobot to the ground, pinning him down as a lion would a gazelle. The Autobot cried out for his brothers and sisters, his fellow Autobots, pleading and alternately cursing the dark Decepticon.

"Damn you to the Pits." He cursed, growing weak, fading, falling as his systems crashed while the virus began to slowly eat him alive.

Whether by mercy or motivated by boredom, already tiring of the weakened soldier, Blackout ended his victim's pain by ripping out the blade pinning the weak Autobot to the scorched ground, and slashed open his throat and chest.

Sam, enraged by his own rape, and by the fate other countless Autobots that had suffered beneath Blackout, struck at the Decepticon's face. The Decepticon squealed in surprise, then pain, as Sam ripped one optic loose.

Retaliating, Blackout swiped, talons cracking across Sam's face, splitting open one cheek.

"I won't be another one of your victims!" Sam swore, striking with any limb that could muster strength. He kicked, clawed, and spat, tearing at anything that fell within reach. Unable to break free from the other's larger body, or from the black tentacles spliced into his system, Sam cursed as warning screens and flashing text drew his attention to his screens flashing across his optics.

VIRUS DETECTED

FIREWALL ACTIVATED

SECONDARY FIREWALL UPLOADING...58%

SECONDARY FIREWALL UPLOADING...60%

ERROR ERROR ERROR

Flashing red, the text began to stutter. Blue digits ate across the screen as Blackout's virus dug deep.

* * *

1110010010101010101010  
001011110101101010  
010101010111  
010101  
01010  
011

Sam's screens went haywire.

WARNING

WARNING

VIRUS ...VIR..US ..BREACHING FIREWALL

DEF...ENSE SYST...EMS ACTIVATIN..

ERROR ERROR ERROR

FAILURE TO UPLOAD

Electricity raced between their connection, Blackout hacking in, breaking past the first and secondary firewalls. The other's mainframe was so close he could almost taste it.

VIRUS DOWNLOADING

DOWNLOADING 43%  
DOWNLOADING 47%  
DOWNLOADING 52%

D..EF..ENS...E....SYS..TEMS...FAILED

Damn it. Nothing was working fast enough to keep up with both the downloading and uploading systems. _'It would be nice if anything would get him out of my systems! Any day now!'_

The Decepticon, besides being a hacker and a rapist, also prided in using intimidation and torture tactics to pull forward whatever information proved valuable. Having hacked into Sam's memory banks, he delighted in looping and adding to Sam's memories, replaying the devastating attack on the young man's home.

_One the second floor, a familiar voice screamed in pain and terror. "SAM!!"_

"Mikaela!"

Mikaela screamed, trapped with nowhere to run as Blackout loomed in the backyard, stepping out of the remains of the burning shed, guns aimed towards the second story rooms.

Aimed at one particular room where the young organic screamed.

"Mikaela! Get downstairs! We have to get outside!"

The same explosive firepower, used to wipe out the American base in Qatar, roared towards the helpless female. The walls crumbled to dust and was incinerated a split second later, flames catching the hair upon Mikaela's head and body, clothing scorched from the heat of Blackout's firepower. Her lungs burned to cinders, insides cracking as fire pouring through her. Her slim, beautiful body outlined in magnesium and nova flames, the world erupting into a volcano of violence and pain around her.

One strike took out the entirety of the upper floor.

A loud roar, magnesium and nova white flames blew apart the hallway at the top of the stairs. Fire licked at the ceiling, wood and dry wall ripped upwards, burning to dust beneath intense heat.

Sam fell and curled up, protecting his head and front.

"MIKAELA!"

Sam cried out, the memory looping over and over again; he was certain that he felt the tears spilling from his optics. Mikaela... Oh, sweet beautiful Mikaela...She didn't deserve such a thing. Burned alive, screaming for someone to save her.

_Mojo, fortunate to possess keen instincts that warned of the approaching threat, fled from the house, escaping into the undergrowth, howling in fear. Other family pets fled as well, large and small, canine, feline, and otherwise._

The humans were not so fortunate to possess such keen instincts.

Unbeknownst to Sam's father, the government agents assigned to guard their household had not even had a chance to radio a warning from their parked vehicle when Blackout and Starscream fell from the sky, falling like angels adorned in armor, splitting the streets apart with fire, bullets, and blade. Vehicles flew through the air like matchbox toy cars, and hapless civilians screamed outside and within their homes as vehicles created new doors and ceilings within their homes.

The two Decepticons sneered in disgust, stepping over the broken, bleeding carcasses of the government vehicles and agents, not masking their approach as they fell upon the Witwicky backyard.

The older organic man stood, shocked and dumb, as the ceiling of the shed rose into the air, crumbling wood and tiles clutched in one of Starscream's hands.

"This is not the one." Starscream threw aside the shed's roof in disgust. Barely deigning the human another look he turned towards the house, the weapon mounted on his forearm charging, "Eliminate it."

"Yes Sir." Blackout said with relish, pulling the helicopter blades from his back, spinning them expertly through the air.

Air whistled, split by the sharp metal blades, death dancing on black wings as it shredded apart the bushes, trees, and shed, rushing towards the helpless male.

He sobbed, unable to turn away from the image of his Dad being ripped apart. He had hoped, selfishly prayed, that at least one of his parents had made it out alive.

_Sam fell backwards, and by good fortune was saved by his awkward tumble when Starscream dove forward, narrowly fitting his arm down the narrow expanse of the stairway, missing Sam by mere inches. Starscream bared sharp fangs in a fury, tearing bone-white shards of wood from the stairs as the hand flexed, exerting his frustration at just missing his prey._

Blackout approached the house, observing as the leader of their attack on the Witwicky household released his frustration, snarling at the young male in Cybertronian.

"SAMMY!!"

He perked at the unfamiliar voice, sensors scanning, locating the other organic female. The 'mother', as designated. Optics narrowing, vision magnifying, he froze the image of the female onto his screen, locking her signature into his memory banks.

Starscream's head whipped towards the sharp scream, arm rising, the muzzle of the gun flashing up from the compartment of his forearm. He aimed at the female organic visible through the jagged doorway, bleeding heavily and pulling herself up from the kitchen floor knuckles white as she gripped the counter.

Sam screamed, diving forward, aiming to use every ounce of strength in his body to shove the muzzle of the gun off target, away from his mother, at any cost. "NO! Mom, run!"

Sensing the opportunity to strike, Blackout rushed forward. Like a curled snake, he bared his fangs and bit deep.

The suicide rush at Starscream was wasted. Blackout, like a dark vengeful god adorned by metal blades and ivory teeth, tore apart the wall that separated the kitchen from the backyard. Blades spinning, Blackout lashed the length of his arm across the entire expanse of the large room.

The look on the female's face was priceless. She peered up in dazed horror, unable to comprehend death flying towards her.

Blood splashed the floor, a small surprised gasp falling breathlessly from Judy's lips as her body fell, suddenly so terribly weak. Lacerations covered her from head to toe, a red pool widening beneath her tangled legs as she collapsed. Wet muscles glistened between split lips of flesh, loose pieces flapping, hanging by mere tendrils of skin. The fingers of her hand trembled, stretching out towards her son. Her soft eyes were glassy, bead of crimson dotting her eyelashes. "Sammy.."

Their target fell limp, stunned helpless at the sight of his 'mother' collapsing into a pool of her own fluids. Starscream scooped the young male up, clenching their prize tight.

"Humans are so easy to exterminate." Blackout hissed against his antenna, pushing and pulling against the weakened body draped across his lap. "Like brushing aside small insects. Instead, though..." A dark chuckle, Blackout whispered conspiratorially into his ear, "They do scream quite a bit louder than insects, don't they?"

"Mon-steeerr..." His words slurred, voice box combating the virus that was simultaneously tearing its way along the perimeter wall of his mainframe.

Blackout ground his Spark harder, pushing forward, drawing a weak scream from his prey. His fingers sunk in to the metal shoulders, leaving indents across the smooth surface. "In a couple more minutes, you won't even remember their _names_!" He promised.

It was hard to tell who was more surprised — Sam, or Blackout — when a large silver and blue reached between them and looped through the hacking cables stretching from Blackout's cavity. The hand pulled the cables taut.

"_You!_" Blackout's hiss was laced heavily with fear.

"Get out of his systems, parasite." Optimus Prime cursed, twisting his hand and ripping the cables from their mounting in Blackout's chest.

Blackout's shriek of agony rang throughout the lab. He fell back, clutching at the bleeding cables spitting oil and lubricants across the floor. The plates of his chest shuddered, closing partway over the bleeding red mass of his Spark.

Sam slumped wrapping his hands around the lifeless cables still attached within his chest. He gasped, breathing erratically as he tugged feebly, trying to rip them free with the one hand propping him off the floor.

"_Fragging glitch!_" Blackout howled, oil dripping from under his faceplate. He glared hatefully at the Autobot leader, curled into a weak fetal position around the torn remains of the cables hanging from his chest.

Optimus Prime approached the cursing Decepticon, blade snapping forward and out of its casing, stretching past the top of his wrist. "If you require assistance in removing your appendages, I will be happy to assist." Optimus insisted, leaning over the cringing Cybertronian.

Panicking, Blackout pushed away, narrowly avoiding the strike as Optimus' blade pierced the ground where he had laid. The main doors didn't have a chance to open before Blackout crashed into them, breaking the doors from their mountings as he escaped from the Autobot leader's fury. Dimly, Sam thought he recognized Ironhide's voice as he cursed the Decepticon's sudden appearance in the hallway, and heavy artillery from the enraged weapon's specialist followed the sounds of Blackout's cowardly retreat.

Sam didn't have the opportunity to relish the thought of Blackout having to avoid Ironhide's fury. Instead, he curled around the open chest cavity, hands covering the bared Spark casing, shuddering around the slick cables still imbedded. "Ahh..gghk...ahh.." His voice box was intermixed with static, leaving him incapable of applying the proper words to express his suffering.

He flinched away from the careful hands that covered his shoulders, sweeping over the deep fingerprints left by Blackout. "Don't touch me!" He shouted, legs kicking, pushing him away from the large shadow above him.

"Sam." Optimus raised his hands in peace, the blade already retracting back into its proper place.

"Leave me...alone.." Sam begged, huddling against the metal bed. "Just..just leave me alone, Optimus."

"...I can't do that, Sam." He apologized sincerely. "I can't leave you like this."

"I'm...having a little trouble keeping my head together. My family, my girlfriend, my house...My body. And now, Blackout, he did this to me--" Sam emphasized his words by tightening the grip around the slack cables.

Sam startled as hands covered his shoulders yet again, and he was tugged carefully, patiently towards the large Autobot leader. "Nothing I can say will ever properly express my pain at having you suffer as you have, Sam." Optimus pulled Sam against him, the engine components of his earthly form thrumming softly, soothing the pounding headache that Sam was enduring. "You've paid a heavy price for having been dragged into our war."

"Not your fault--" Sam was interrupted.

"As a...friend, and as leader, I have failed in the worst possible way..."

"Don't apologize..." He jerked involuntarily, the virus biting at the weakening defenses surrounding his systems. "Oh god, it's still in my head." Crying out, he tucked his head down, moaning through the pain and invading codes and commands digging like fleshy worms around the inside of his dense metal skull.

Optimus shifted, easily pulling the smaller form against his chest. Quickly assessing the external damage to Sam's body, he also found the cables still connected around the outside of the young one's bared Spark casing. Optimus cursed Blackout under his breath to the Pits and back, realizing with dawning horror what the Decepticon had done. Like the other Autobots, he had learned during the war on Cybertron what gruesome horrors Blackout was capable of performing. "Sam, I must remove the cables. I can not eliminate the virus without destroying the source." He warned, "This...this will hurt quite a bit, Sam."

Sam half-sobbed and laughed. Could anything hurt worse than it already was? With the last of his strength, he clapped his hands over Optimus' shoulders, pulling the leader closer to whisper his plea, "Please help me."

Optimus bowed his head, and carefully wrapped one hand through the cables, using his other arm to prop Sam against his body, using his mass as support. "Brace yourself."

Inhaling deeply, Sam's chest stuttered as Optimus, with one even sharp drag, pulled the cables loose from their ports and free from his chest.

Picture knives sliding through flesh. Imagine them doused in acid. That was only half the agony of the black cables sliding free.

Optimus pulled Sam close, allowing the young one to muffle each agonized scream against his shoulder. Inside his inner components churned, knowing what needed to be done next, but fearing how Sam would respond.

"Sam. I must destroy what is left of the virus in your systems." Optimus tilted Sam back until optics met. "I can not do that without establishing contact between our Sparks."

"Oh god, no more...please, not again.." Sam hiccuped, trembling violently. The bronze-etched silver cheeks twisted in fear, blue optics half-dimmed as Sam retreated. "Don't make me go through that again."

"I swear upon my Spark that I will not harm you, Sam. What Blackout has done is a mockery, a desecration of what a Connection truly is." Sam appeared too afraid to acknowledge Optimus' oath, head low and shaking. "I promise not to hurt you, Sam."

"Promise?"

"On my Spark."

Taking Sam's silence as consent, Optimus was, however, prepared to halt and pull back at any sign of Sam's discomfort.

Because of how much he dwarfed Sam's new body, it was less stressful on Sam, and easier on his damaged body, to turn him until their chests connected. With deliberate slowness, not wanting to startle Sam, Optimus hit the proper sequence to open his own chest, far more difficult with only one hand.

Sam couldn't help but be struck soundless by the sight of Optimus' Spark. Polar opposite to the hateful, burning crimson of Blackout's Spark, Optimus' Spark hummed, emitting low pulsing pale blue light surrounding the burning white core. Not even in direct contact, their Sparks pulsed once in unison, echoing its counterpart as the two Sparks sang a silent melody in greeting.

When the two Sparks connected, it felt like he was immersed under a warm shower after running outside in the cold rain. Heat filled Sam to the brim, but not too hot, not threatening to burn him to ash. He felt weightless surrounded by the patient, nurturing simulated heartbeat that held him close, and held him safe from harm. Safely within the bright Spark's womb, Optimus tirelessly lulled Sam's Spark into emergency suspension.

Sam relaxed within Optimus' arms. Carefully, as if approaching a frightened foal, Optimus stretched deep, threading his way deep into Sam's systems. Sparks flared, melting into their partner.

This was incredibly dangerous. If either panicked, each system would respond to the perceived threat, emitting a strong electric burst that could fry their mainframes. Besides Blackout, only Optimus, Starscream, and Megatron possessed the fortitude and experience to handle such a defense response. Ratchet would possibly recover, but although the medic's processors were equal to his leader's, his own systems were not developed to delve so deeply into a patient's mainframe while simultaneously fighting off a preventive strike from another's agitated network.

Effortlessly buoyed, laws of gravity holding no quarter in this realm, Optimus Prime glided forward, approaching the vast fields of sapphire and alabaster nerve clusters and dendrites that rose high above him, immense skyscrapers. Highways of connections and overpasses released continuous surges of electricity that raced along metal composite wires. Sparks snapping and popping along the clefts of numerous synapses, transmitting valuable data. Various sections of the neural pathways bore deep gouges, wounds caused by Blackout's assault. Cerulean mist trickled through the jagged openings with bare sparks hissing in open air like coiled rattlesnakes. Balls of light, the free-roaming guards that monitored the functioning of Sam's numerous systems, hovered around the naked wounds, halos of light bombarding the torn components, attempting to aid the repairs as the shredded sheaths of metal wires and fluids slowly began mending.

The firewalls lay in ruins, jagged red blocks torn apart under Blackout's rage. Sam's systems bounced around, forward and back all around him, tiny fireflies that hurtled about in confusion and panic, not understanding what had happened, nor how to react to the fresh invasion and the existing threat. They turned momentarily on Optimus, flashing bright red, registering him as the immediate intruder. Agitated and spinning in a dense mass the guards approaching the invader, probing his defenses.

Optimus soothed the shining guards with a tiny burst of electricity from his Spark, and the small guards paused, confused by the Cybertronian message. Using their momentary pause to his advantage, Optimus began coaxing the firewalls to begin regenerating. The red block shot up, ricocheting off one another like jumping beans, clacking aloud as they sought to find their brothers and mend together. The small fireflies seemed exhilarated by this, spinning and performing acrobats through the air as they processed and imbedded Optimus' actions into their memory banks, clutching onto the invaluable knowledge that was helping to return life to the damaged network.

_'His systems are learning. Soon they will have the capacity to cope with Blackout's signature.'_ Optimus noted, _'If I am not mistaken, if Sam's systems have the time to develop their own anti-virus, Blackout will find it far more difficult to repeat such an attack again.' _

Blackout wouldn't have the chance. Optimus would personally offline the Decepticon before he came near Sam ever again.

Much to his amusement and curiosity, the energy signatures followed him as he continued on, pacing the Autobot as he flowed deeper into Sam's systems. The tiny balls of energy spun around his antennas, creating a gold halo. If he listened carefully, he could make out the soft tune of the energies conversing amongst themselves sharing data and observations about the stranger weaving his way through the damaged or off-lined systems.

The damage was far more extensive than he had been prepared to face. While not irreparable, the magnitude left him sick. Autobots such as himself, Ratchet, and Ironhide, were old enough, developing sophisticated systems to not only identify a threat similar to Blackout, but also how to physically expel the Decepticon out of their systems.

However, Sam's body was so young and had not had the opportunity for an older Cybertronian to train and provide valuable upgrades. At the time when he was in close company with the Autobots, but because of his human body, he hadn't possessed the correct body to accept and process basic software and firewalls, he was left defenseless. Blackout had seized such a rare opportunity.

Thankfully the self-repair program had initiated, but was weakened by the remaining tendrils of the virus constantly beating at the repairing systems. Like a hive of angry bees the virus battered at the systems' fragile walls, forcing the systems' efforts to fall short of adequate.

With an angry motion, Optimus swept his hands through the virus's body, ignoring the bite of the virus as it spun on him, ready to latch onto his own systems.

Establishing direct contact with the virus, Optimus' defense systems immediately came online. A sequenced code rushed up the length of his arm and coiled around the virus, tightening like a noose. The virus shuddered, twitching within the grasp of the anti-virus sequence.

Sam's systems, finally given a reprieve, leapt into repairs. Already the firewalls were well over fifty percent and still rising, broken pieces sliding together and beginning to mend their wounds.

Optimus ran a quick scan, and located two more sites where the virus repeatedly crashed Sam's systems. Two more times he repeated the same process, snagging the viruses and allowing their greed to spell their own demise. As the virus patterns skittered over his systems and latched on, his own anti-virus rose forward and entrapped Blackout's virus, suffocating each separate virus no matter how hard it struggled.

Again, the energy signatures floated around, at a safe distance when noting the invasive virus, and rushed to scan and analyze the data they were receiving when Optimus snagged the hazardous intruder. No doubt, they were struggling to analyze Optimus' own anti-virus sequence, but given Sam's age and experience, his software was not advanced enough to run a complete diagnostic. In time, however, Optimus would make certain that both he and Ratchet would provide Sam with the best upgrades they could each provide.

The skyscrapers pulsed, burning like miniature galaxies. Each construct shuddered, shaking free the dying flakes of the virus, loosening the agitating fleas that had tormented the many programs and systems.

Within the vast city of wires and metal, Optimus caught the sound of Sam whimpering, stirring at the ache of the recovering systems rebooted, the raw burn singeing sensitized neural sensors and external ports.

Optimus sent out a frequency, lacing it with Sam's. Using his own systems, he proceeded to assist the other's main network.

A metallic echo to Sam's voice announced the progress of the streaming information.

_'INITIATING INTERNAL REPAIRS.'_

'MINOR OPERATIONS SUSPENDED.'

'STASIS IMMINENT.'

A hundred meters below him, a neural image of Sam's body flickered, reflecting in Optimus' optics. Blue optics were dimmed nearly black, head thrown back buckled by the effort of processing the data streaming across his screens.

_'WAITING APPROVAL FOR EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN.'_

This is what he had feared.

If Sam allowed himself, he would cease all primary systems and networks, forcing his body into suspended animation. While safe in many other incidences, suspended animation proved volatile when the body was undergoing an internal threat of a virus or hacker.

Given the delicate state of his mainframe, to purposely go into stasis now could lead to significant repercussions.

Optimus released his control, allowing his larger form to steadily fall towards the other. "Sam." Twisting midair, he brought himself around until he was leaning over the disabled form. Shoulders met, Sam instinctively flinching from contact. "Do not be afraid." He coaxed the other forward, holding Sam as he trembled violently. "You're safe. You can come back now."

Sam's optics flickered, brightening momentarily.

_'SAFE.'_ Sam's voice reverberated, pounding from all angles. _'SAFE HERE. NO PAIN, AND NO FEAR.'_ His head rolled, peering up at the large Autobot encasing him within sturdy arms. _'LET ME SLEEP. JUST FOR A LITTLE WHILE.'_ He appealed.

"Not here, Sam. If you go into stasis now, you may not be capable of coming out on your own free will." Optimus warned. Hefting the smaller body, he allowed his body to repel back, pulling them up, both continuing to slowly rise. The pull settled a lead ball inside their abdomens, leading them closer to the surface of the deep abyss, the radiant skyscrapers and pulsing networks sinking slowly from beneath.

_'TIRED...SLEEP...BUT CAN'T SLEEP NOW.'_ Sam could barely support his helm, tucked underneath Optimus' chin. He was so tired, but the ache for sleep fell short compared to his desire to see his friend. Bee...

_'WHEN WILL BEE COME HOME?'_ He asked, Spark aching for the comfort of his guardian. Bee would make everything all right. _'WHEN CAN I SEE HIM?'_

"Soon, Sam." Optimus assured. "He will be here soon."

_'...OKAY.'_

If Optimus had been born a human, breaching the surface of Sam's systems would have torn the breath from his lungs. Physically jarred by the excursion, leaving the knee joints in his legs weak after retreating back from deep within Sam's mainframe; systems ran across his screens, diagnostics indicating that the virus within Sam was successfully exterminated.

"Optimus!" Ratchet shouted, alarmed when his leader lost his balance.

"Sir!" Ironhide filled the entire doorway, holding his arm and gun steady finishing one last scan of the exterior passageway. "Blackout has retreated after receiving minimal damage. The facility is secured." The weapons specialist spat in fury, "Slaggin' Decepticon took off with his tail between his legs."

"Left a lot of toys behind." Jazz groaned, clearly frustrated by the time wasted on the Decepticon equipment. "Took forever to scrap the security system. Not to mention liquefy the spy software slumbering inside the main systems." He shuddered, as if feeling the viruses slithering across his bright exo-suit.

"Sam!" Bumblebee nearly knocked Jazz onto his aft pushing the smaller Autobot aside. Jazz used a few choice words to rename the soldier as Bee rushed to Optimus and Sam's side. The reconnaissance soldier's hand moved, and halted, not certain how he should proceed. "Sam..."

His optics narrowed, burning the image into his memory banks. Sam's Spark was completely intact, slowly pulling away from its connection with Optimus.

The chest plates and metallic viscera were another issue. Visible cracks adorned the chest covering, gears twisted from their jackets. Long silver streaks identified where Blackout's talons had shorn off ribbons of protective inner layers, curls of stripped metal dangling by miniscule wires. The few accessible ports were scuffed, one too badly damaged to allow any external connection.

"Primus." Ratchet knelt beside the smaller Autobot, the medic's shadow overlapping Bumblebee as he leaned in closer at the more significant external damage. "I don't think I can salvage several of the ports. I'll have to remake them from scratch." He ran sensitive fingertips over the damage upon Sam's shoulders and helm. "The external damage is minimal, considering what he went through. However, the internal systems concern me."

Optimus finally pulled free from the connection, allowing the Spark to pull back and lock into its casing, freeing his chest to slide closed. He sighed softly, mentally exhausted, as the plates secured. "I have already cleared his mainframe and defense systems. I'll need your help for the rest, my friend."

"Of course." Ratchet promised. Ratchet reached for Sam, but paused, leveling a stern glare at the yellow Autobot that hampered his assessment of their newest ward. "Bumblebee, you are 'Invading my Personal Space'." He quoted the sputtered phrase that he had heard Sam repeat many times.

"Ah!" Bumblebee startled, hustling out of the medic's way. "But I want to stay with--Sam!" He watched helpless as Ratchet carefully eased Sam out of Optimus' arms, the yellow and red Autobot shifting the metal protoform into a more comfortable position. "Ratchet, please allow me to carry him!"

"Bumblebee, enough. Calm your circuits and get yourself straightened up." Ironhide growled. "I need you and Jazz with me to secure the exit."

"Yeah." Jazz's visor ran several more scans. "The suits will be arriving in eight minutes. We need to make sure the path is clear for Ratch and Optimus."

"I have insisted on more than one occasion that you not call me that." Ratchet muttered. Jazz grinned, seizing the medic's obvious dislike at his nickname.

"Got ya, M.D."

Ratchet's narrowed optics promised that Jazz would not dare enter the medic wing in the next few days unless he wanted several favorite components removed from his person. "Please do not tempt me." Ratchet glared, standing straight and adjusting his limp patient before popping Jazz along the back of his helm with a large hand.

"Ack!" Jazz wobbled, visor and helmet curving, momentarily blinding him. "Not my face!"

Ironhide rolled his eyes, watching the two squabbling like rookies at the Academy.

Optimus cut their argument short. Pulling to his feet, he proceeded Ratchet, motioning for the other three Autobots to follow. "Get outside. I'll transform so that I can carry Sam by more suitable means. We will also avoid police detection."

Bumblebee chirped in worry, looking back in his leader and medic's direction as he followed Jazz and Ironhide to secure the passageway. His optics never left Sam, although the dazed young one barely noticed his friend's arrival or absence.

The smaller form in his arms moved restlessly. "..Sl...eep now..?" Ratchet paused, meeting Sam's optics that shifted up towards his left, casting a pleading glance at the Autobot medic. "...Can I sleep now?"

"Of course, Sam." Ratchet propped him up further until neck and shoulders rested at a more comfortable angle upon a large shoulder. "It is safe for you to enter stasis."

Sam sighed, relieved. "...That...'s...good." Optics drooped, dimming black as he relaxed completely.

"Ratchet, hurry." Optimus warned, sensors catching the approaching sirens of numerous police cruisers responding to a supervisor's call about a disturbance down at the warehouses.

"Go, go." Ratchet followed, not looking over his shoulder once as the Autobots hurried, needing to get their charge to a safer haven away from the danger of the humans and possible return of any Decepticons.

Ratchet secretly dreaded when Sam would awaken and be forced to process what had become of his beloved progenitors and female companion, no bodies left to salvage or adequately identify from the barren wasteland that marked where the human neighborhood had once stood.

Nothing would ever be the same; and there was no telling how or if Sam would be able to cope with the fallout.

Lyrics in Part One: 'The Cross' by Within Temptation


	3. Chapter 3

_**Fic M.E.T.A.L : Chapter Two**_  
Title: M.E.T.A.L  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None (At least not right now.)  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MC-17. Be Warned.  
Pairing: Resulting BeexSam. Also non-con pairings, but that will be mentioned in their appropriate chapters.  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
Summary: Sometimes one individual's choices can bring down everything. One action can change the world.

In Chapter Two, Sam is now under the protection of the Autobots. That doesn't mean he can escape his new life, or the life cruelly ripped away from him.

In this chapter, there will be BeexSam hints.

Chapter Two

GOLD

Sam was growing very tired of coming out of stasis and being greeted only by a black canvas spreading an immovable sheath over his optics.

Thankfully, he was not abandoned and alone. Two distinct, achingly familiar voices filled the darkness. Close, so close, easily within arm's length if he only had the strength to reach forward and pull them in.

There was a sharp exchange.

One of those voices did not sound the least bit happy.

"Bumblebee, if you do not stopping getting between me and my patient, I will be forced to take drastic measures." The medic warned. "My hand just might **slip**."

Ratchet.

_'A Ratchet that sounds pissed.'_ Sam couldn't remember hearing the medic so aggravated since the time Jazz had returned from an impromptu street race against two human punks and their low-riding vehicles. Jazz had returned to face Ratchet's tender mercy with his smooth body, from metal helm to metallic foot, adorned by tar and gravel.

Really, taking a shortcut through a major construction project just because he would gain a three-second advantage against his competitors wasn't the wisest course of action. As Ratchet had so kindly informed the Autobot, along with several choice threats about shoving sharp implements where Jazz's Spark wouldn't shine.

"You said that he would be awake hours ago." Sam's guardian grumbled, sullen.

"If I was not being _frequently_ interrupted by _someone_ inquiring whether _my_ patient is still alive _every two minutes_, I would have finished over an hour ago."

_'Ouch. Yep, he's pissed.'_

"Ahhh. Speaking of a certain someone."

Hands ghosted over his dimmed optics, skimming their surface. "Sam, I need you to picture a pinpoint of light...All right?"

Nod.

"Now, visualize that small light exploding into a blue sun."

Following the medic's instructions, Sam sighed in relief when, after a momentary flash of blue, the room came into focus around him. "Cool."

"Easy!" Ratchet cautioned, anticipating Sam's motion to rise. "Relax. Take a few moments to gather yourself."

_'Wow. Dizzy spell.'_ His vision swam, optics refocusing and adjusting to the screens overlaying his lens. He shook his head, narrowed optics puzzled by the small lines of data edging the corner of the screen hanging in front of him: DOWNLOAD IN PROGRESS. "Please don't tell me there's another virus uploading." A hard sigh filled with frustration.

"Certainly not." Ratchet said, insulted by the very thought. "I am currently feeding your system a copy of my personal security network. While you are not currently able to download the full extent quite yet, I think you will find that your systems will have much tighter defenses."

Sam sighed. He appeared to be doing that quite a bit. "Thanks, Ratchet."

Black hands curled over his, lacing together long fingers. Turning towards the presence, Sam smiled, "Hey, Bee." He greeted, the other 'bot crouched beside the bed, face beside Sam's.

"You've been asleep for several cycles, Sam." Bee tightened his hands over Sam, pulling Sam's hand closer to tuck it under his black chin. "I was worried."

"And making a complete nuisance of yourself at the same time." Ratchet muttered, adding his two cents.

"I'm assuming cycles equates to earth days, right?" Sam asked.

"Yes." Bee informed.

Sam startled as a metal chirp binged from his right antenna.

"Ahh." Ratchet leaned over, hand brushing the metal appendage. "The download is complete." Reaching around and under Sam's helm, he found the narrow port and eased the wire and mount free. Looping the slim cable, Ratchet then pulled the opposite mount from his own chest port. "Now, Sam, you can move now. Please take your time; your body is still sensitive from the repairs I have made."

Bee leaned close, brushing his fingertips over Sam's cheek where Blackout's talons had carved into the metal. Ratchet's made certain that no scar was left behind but Bee's optics recollecting where the wound had laid.

Sam shivered from the caress, newly mended metallic flesh hypersensitive. He raised his free hand, laying it over Bee's. "It's okay, Bee. A bit sore, but in one piece."

Bee frowned, pulling Sam closer. Slightly taller and bulkier, his form easily covered Sam in a broad blanket, as if trying to use his body to protect the smaller bot. Bee shuddered; the smashed ruins of Sam's home and neighborhood had stunned the Autobots into immobility, mute horror stealing their voice. He thanked Primus that they had managed to locate Sam by sheer misfortune, tracing the unknown signal of an unregistered Cybertronian to the small Decepticon hideout, but they had been too late to interrupt Starscream's experimentation on his newest 'project'. "I wasn't there to protect you." Bee grieved silently for the other mech.

"You promised to come back, and you did."

"Not before Starscream got his slagging hands on you first." Bee shuddered, optics fading. _"I don't deserve to be called a guardian when I can't protect the one who is most precious to me."_

_'Oh, Bee.'_ Sam slipped free, and wrapped his arms around the Autobot's shoulders, pressing their foreheads together as the yellow 'bot berated himself for his failure to protect Sam from harm. Ratchet lay a broad hand over theirs, his silent strength holding both firm as they weathered through the waves of sorrow that crashed against their Sparks.

_______

_______

Much to Sam's surprise after being released from the medical wing, he found out that a base had not only been designated for the Autobots, but that he was currently on the new base.

More precisely, over a mile underground.

While the Autobots planned to upgrade the human base sitting on the surface above their heads, their primary focus was on first expanding the inner, more secure walls and corridors. In the short time that the Autobots had been provided, the heart of the base equaled the expanse of Mission City. Several corridors were not completely safe for occupation quite yet, but Ironhide and Jazz were moving as quickly as possible to get everything in order.

Ironhide and Ratchet eagerly explained the architecture and physics keeping their home in one piece under the weight and pressure of miles of soil and rock, but Sam's eyes crossed in confusion, head ringing while only a couple minutes into the lecture.

_He was rescued by Jazz. "Put it this way, kid." Jazz threw an arm over Sam's shoulder, both 'bots matched in height. "We've got our base, and its tucked all nice and snug where no humans dare to tread and government satellites 'conveniently' skip over. And it's all thanks to the government sliding generous funds under the table that we have __plenty__ of supplies to outfit the base from the bottom to the top. Thank you, U.S. of A. Hello new comfy pad."_

Optimus had managed to convince Secretary Keller and the President into allowing Sam time to adjust with his new living conditions, assuring that the young mech would be registered and given a appointed name when the time was appropriate. Sam half-suspected that Secretary Keller knew the magnitude of what had truly transpired in Sam's hometown and to Sam Witwicky, but the older man remained patient and silent, trusting the Autobot leader to reveal the truth when the time would come.

_______

_______

"I can't go back, can I?" Sam said the words aloud, rocked by the finality. "I mean, I can't go back to being human." Optimus and Ratchet, for such colossal beings, managed to shrink inward, pulled by the weight of their self-guilt.

"The files we managed to download from Starscream's lab indicated that your new body cast off your organic remains, deeming them useless for your progression." Ratchet shifted, innards rolling as he recalled the methodical, aloof recordings of Starscream's voice as he fastidiously described the process of Sam's protoform shedding its human skin. "Starscream personally incinerated the few remains to assure that there would be no evidence left of your human form."

"Covering his tracks." Sam noted that Optimus nodded, indicating that his assessment was correct.

"Starscream held suspicions that the AllSpark would have either positive or negative side-effects on any organic being that had prolonged contact with the Cube while it collapsed, deconstructed due to contact with Megatron's Spark." Optimus provided. "The Cube used the last of its energy to deposit a underdeveloped Spark into your young human form. Starscream believed that there was potential to 'coax' the Spark into being born, as it would have done naturally if the AllSpark had not been destroyed. Since the Spark existed inside of you in a mutual symbiotic relationship, Starscream felt that there was a marginal chance that such a feat would prove successful. He used your organic body as a crucible to hold the Spark together, long enough for it to gather strength and apply necessary adjustments your skeletal structure. Drawing on the radiation emitted by two matured Sparks provided a steady supply of power, preventing self-collapse."

"Oh." It was a lot to take in. The dense input left him numb, the significance of his 'birth' apparent. Neither Optimus nor Ratchet clarified the process of a Spark suffering self-collapse, and Sam knew that they withheld that information for his benefit. "Well...I guess things could be a lot worst."

_'I guess...'_

"Will it be possible for me to go to Mikaela's and my parents' funerals?"

The two Autobots froze. Their optics dimmed.

"Sam..."

"Would you stop me from laying my own parents to rest?" He demanding, turning on Optimus. "Please! Let me have a chance to say goodbye! That's all I want."

Ratchet crouched down, catching Sam's attention. Even bent down closer to the young bot's level, Sam just came close to standing level with the medic's optics...And Optimus was far more massive, regardless of how much his own body had changed, shooting up to nearly twelve feet. He had to lift his chin up to meet Bumblebee's optics, the 'bot making Sam feel tiny against his sixteen foot tall companion.

"Sam...There is...after the fallout of the Decepticon attack, there was nothing left of your home district. The authorities were...not able to identify the bodies without dental records. Over a dozen humans died that night, including your parents and Mikaela. Medical examiners are still trying to distinguish the remains and deliver them to surviving relatives."

"That doesn't make any sense." Sam shook his head in denial. "No. No, Mikaela...Mikaela died in the fire. My parents were taken by Blackout. He didn't use his guns, he used those helicopter blades!"

"He used the blades to kill them." Optimus acknowledged. "But he also used the main guns to sear the remains of your home, along with your parents as well."

"So he didn't just kill the people that I loved, he made certain that I would never be able to bury their bodies?" Sam's sharp demand made the leader pause. Optimus and Ratchet shared a silent glance, communicating through a private wireless link.

"He has the right to know, Optimus." Ratchet urged.

Optimus nodded pointedly, turning slowly to face the small mech once more. "You were...You were the only one they wanted alive, Sam." He explained. "Everyone else represented mere bags of flesh that held no worth in the mission. To Starscream personally, and to many of the Decepticon forces, humans are no better than insects; they are not worth anything dead or alive."

Both Autobots excused Sam's rudeness as he slammed the door open and left them standing in the main meeting room. Running blind, picking corridors at random, Sam ducked and took turns left and right, pushing deeper into the base in effort to lose his way. Hoping to find a small bolthole and burrow deep into the darkness, tucked away from the new data assaulting his systems. _'Gone. It's all gone, and with no happy ending. No time for good-byes or farewells.'_

_"SAM!"_

_"SAMMY!"_

"Stop." Sam clasped hands over his antennas, cringing from the ringing of high screams of his mother and Mikaela. "Stop it, you idiot." He berated. "It's too late to save them. If you had been a little smarter, a little faster, no one would have had to die."

Reaching a dead end of a stark corridor, he slid down the wall to hunker down with his back against a corner. A hand slid over his helm, as if shielding against the memories looping and punishing him for his failure to save the ones he loved. He pressed his forehead against both knees, legs tucked beneath his other arm, and lips twisted in pain.

He was the only survivor of the brutal murder. Last descendent of _the great_ Samuel Archibald Witwicky.

_'What's so great now, huh?'_ His hands clenched until his palms stung. _'What am I supposed to do now that everyone is gone, and I'm left like this?'_

No longer human, but not a naturally born Cybertronian. There was not a chance that he would belong with the humans or among his Cybertronian allies. Tolerated for a short time, perhaps. A curious anomaly. But only that.

The AllSpark had bestowed an immature Spark upon him, for all the good its gift provided. He was a mutation; a freak of nature. _'What am I supposed to do with this metal shell? It's not a new body, its my prison.'_

"Sam?"

The familiar voice jolted him from his tormenting thoughts. He lifted his head, peering up at the yellow Autobot. "Hi..." Sam greeted, pasting on a weak smile.

Bee approached his young friend slowly, the young bot's misery clear by Sam's unsubtle incline against the wall, using the metal frame to brace his body as hopelessness choked him tight. "Why do you grieve alone?" Bee crouched down, leaning close to his friend. Blue optics met, begging his companion to share his pain and not allow himself to suffer alone in the cold and the dark hollow halls.

"I just need some time alone to think about a couple of things." Sam answered.

"You're punishing yourself." Bee notes that Sam flinched, indicating that the mech's assumption proved right. "You feel guilty that you survived Starscream's and Blackout's assault."

"A lot of innocent people died because the Decepticons wanted me." Sam whispers softly. "They weren't worth much more that...target practice! They didn't have to die; the Decepticons snuffed out each victim, casting them aside like trash!"

Sam's optics dimmed pitch black, even when his friend pulled his slack hands into his own, squeezing the bronze and black fingers. "Sometimes...no matter how much it hurts, we can't change our pasts." Bee whispered, blue optics paled, accessing memories stored in the dustiest corners of his memory banks. Remembering the war on Cybertron, and the many brothers and sisters he held as their Sparks faded into oblivion. "No matter how hard we may try, and no matter how strong we may become, sometimes we can't save everyone.

"But no matter how hard it gets, the worst that we can do is to allow ourselves to only suffer and belittle our own lives. It is justifiable to mourn the ones that are lost; but we can not stain their memory by allowing ourselves to suffer a slow, empty death when we do nothing but leave our Sparks to anguish and rot under never ending self-flagellation.

"Would the ones we have loved and lost suffer even more if they knew that we could not let them go and that we only continue to exist for the sole reason of suffering for the rest of our own existence?"

"I know!" Sam cut in. "I know, but I can't let go of this pain! I can still remember their faces. How long can I grieve before this ache inside begins to fade?"

"I don't know, Sam. I can't say, since I am incapable of sharing your memories of the ones you loved so deeply." Bee shifted, pressing their temples together. "On my planet, we do not have progenitors such as your parents; our Sparks were born from the Cube, and the means of such birth is still unknown."

Bee paused. "I did not know Mikaela for very long, but I could sense that she was a very strong, very special human being. We did not have many femmes on Cybertron, but the ones I had the honor of meeting were very similar to Mikaela: beautiful, headstrong, and brimming with fire and courage."

He detected a faint tremble from Sam. "Regardless, your parents' and Mikaela's deaths were unnecessary. But remember the reasons why you loved and cherished them. With this, you will always treasure their spirits and provide a home within your Spark, allowing the ones you love to forever live on inside of you."

A weak, metallic whimper simulated a human sniffle.

Sam didn't resist as Bee pulled him close until nothing separated them. His arms thread across Bee's back, burying his optics and face against the warm chest plates covering the Autobot's Spark.

"Stay with me." Bee pleaded. "Stay here with me. I promise that I won't leave you."

Trembling lines of saline tears trickled from the edges of Sam's optics, turning into steam as they met the wall of heat of Bee's broad chest and shielded Spark.

"I promise."

_______

_______

_"What did you do?"_

Bumblebee appeared torn between leading Sam into the medical wing and hiding behind his ward. He shrank away from Ratchet's fury. The medic had roared up in their faces like a raging Hindu god, optics downloading the saline fluids drying on Sam's metal cheeks.

"I'm sorry, we spent some time conversing--" Bee stuttered, cringing beneath Ratchet's flared optics.

"Then please inform me how a mere conversation could possibly correlate with the release of lubricants from my patient's optics." Ratchet asked coldly.

"Ratchet." Sam stepped in front of the looming medical officer. Bumblebee -- the coward -- kept his guard at Sam's back. "It's not his fault. Bumblebee was with me, helping me to calm down after storming off after talking with you and Optimus."

"You have no reason to apologize. It was our fault entirely." Ratchet countered, not wanting to hear any more unnecessary apologies. "Optimus and I frequently forget that we may come across a bit cold and removed while conversing with fellow human allies. It is no excuse, but our mannerisms reflected upon you."

With careful hands and fingertips, he brushed the span of the mech's cheeks, inspecting the dried tear tracks upon Sam's face. "I did not realize that Blackout had caused damage to your optics. It seems I have not been doing my job as medical officer by allowing such a injury to escape my attention."

"That's not from an injury." Sam argued. Inside his Spark, however, another voice whispered _'But there's an injury to my soul that may never truly heal.' _"Bee and I had a serious discussion, and I had a bit of a melt-down."

Not the best choice of words given the way Ratchet appeared ready to throw Sam onto the medic pad and run a complete diagnostics on every system to find the threat of a 'melt-down'. Sam held up his hands, warning off the medical officer. "Not a melt-down in the sense that 'Oh no, systems crashing in three...two...one' sort of way! It was...well..." He struggled, unable to find the right words. "I guess you could say..."

"It was entirely my fault, Ratchet." Bee cut in.

"It was not!" Sam sputtered.

"I caused you more harm by speaking so callously when you were in such an agitated state."

"You call your actions callous, simply for showing that you were worried? Bee, you had the best of intentions."

"That is irrelevant. I ending up causing you more pain."

"Bee!"

"Both of you stop this instant." Ratchet used his hands to break Sam and Bee apart, pushing them in opposite directions, refereeing both 'bots to separate corners. "Instead of focusing on who is to blame, I would rather focus on Sam's ailment."

"I'm not sick! I cried. Tears, not lubricants. And only a little bit."

"Cried?" Ratchet processed the word. He accessed terabytes of information, seeking to expand the word. "Crying is an expression of human emotion, usually extreme happiness, pain, or anguish. Tear ducts secrete a weak saline solution, causing the flesh around the eyes to redden and swell, and the mucus glands in both nostrils to release excess fluids."

"Okay, one: Eew, too much information about human anatomy intermixed with fluids and other 'yuck' factors. Second: Human not even a week ago. What's the big deal?"

Ratchet tilted his head owlishly, contemplating Sam as he expressed his negative reaction towards the data the medic had been downloading from the Internet. "Besides tear production being a trait for organic beings, unseen in robotic organisms, other than when their bodies receive heavy internal damage?"

...Oh. In that case...

"Well..." No wonder Ratchet was beside himself with worry. "Makes since for why you were making a fuss." Off to the side he added, "No need to act like your pants were on fire, though." Sam muttered.

Unfortunately, Ratchet caught that remark. "...I do not wear pants, and neither am I on fire."

_'Okay, delete smart comments. Clichés and overly worried Autobots do not mix.'_ Sam moaned silently as Ratchet tugged him by the wrist towards the bed, leading Sam along as if he were a wayward school child. "Does this still mean that I have to wait through more scans?"

"It'll only take a moment." Ratchet assured.

"That's what you said the first time you put me through scans." A moment? Yeah, right. When Sam and Mikaela went through their individual scans after Mission City, it took more like two hours. While Sam knew that Ratchet held the best of intentions, his assertion sounded no better than when his family doctor would promise 'Trust me, this won't hurt a bit.'

"He did say at the time that he wanted to be thorough." Bee added, finally brave enough to draw closer, crouching beside the bed as Sam slid on, deciding willingness was far better and more dignified than being wrestled and possible restrained.

"And you would know? You were put into stasis until your legs were fully functional." Sam met Bee halfway, hands intertwining. His optics bore into Bee's, daring the mech to deliver an adequate counter argument.

"I was in stasis, not deaf." Bee mumbled.

"_You_ were being a nosy bot." Sam grinned. He lay back, relaxing marginally as the equipment hanging above hummed to life, sliding over the ceiling to hover over Sam. A thin horizontal laser beam overlaid the width of his body, beginning a slow scan from helm to foot.

Ratchet allowed the machine to run through primary diagnostics, secondary system initiating more precise data records. He suddenly remembered. "Ah. Sam, I forgot to show you something earlier." Ratchet raised his hand, pressing two fingers against a tiny, barely visible depression upon his temple. A low click and optics flared, emitting broad beams of blue laser lights. The image flickered once before growing solid. Soon a small-scale, projected metal framework floated before Ratchet. "I did not take the chance to show you schematics of your body."

Catching sight of the floating construct, Sam remained silent, simply ruminating over the miniature digital icon.

His new body intermixed light and shadows. The main framework was jet-black but overlapped with broad expanses of bronze, and aged gold, arm and leg joints burnished silver. Unintelligible symbols identical to the AllSpark's glyphs adorned the line of his waist and midline. Looking closer it appeared that his flanks and wrists also bore even smaller glyphs, almost invisible if one didn't know what to look for. For all he knew, the marks hadn't been there at all in the first place. Maybe the marks appeared and faded at will.

The face was unremarkable. Steel-colored cheeks and lips, bright blue optics frozen in the projected screen. Thin painted lines of bronze danced the edge of both cheeks, forming tattoos that ran down like tribal face paint. The bottommost bronze edges disappeared beneath the jaw line. Antennas were positioned where his ears once sat, forming a fan of three smoothly rounded spikes that measured a foot in length separately. The smooth skull of the helm burned low, deep bronze melting smoothly against the steel forehead and face.

With what he had previously noticed while standing among the other mechs, he concluded that he was smaller in stature compared to the other Autobots. He would pose level to Jazz, but only came head to shoulder alongside Bee. Compared on scale with human measurements of height, the difference would only be around a couple of 'inches'. In his eyes next to the majestic figures of Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Ironhide, it was like comparing the Tranquility city monument to the Statue of Liberty.

For some reason, looking at the image of his doppelganger, Sam found himself wanting; perhaps because having been given a Spark and a new body coaxed into life under Starscream's hands, he had expected a great deal more.

In all honest opinion, this new body wasn't anything special. He didn't, or couldn't, see the allure that this metal physique held, so tempting in fact that Starscream had decided to play mad scientist and bring this form into life.

_'Was it all worth it?'_ He asked, recalling Starscream's smug satisfaction. _'Does this body show proof of your prowess and feed your hunger to show that you can do what has never been done before? Does it sate your ego, you miserable bastard?'_

All those innocent lives wasted over a cheap imitation. _'Behold your creation, Starscream. Enjoy. I hope you choke on it.'_ Sam hissed.

"Put it away, Ratchet. _Please_." Sam begged, turning his optics away. "I've seen enough."

"Of course, Sam." Ratchet immediately complied, the image dying with a brief static flicker. He regretted that his good intentions had caused more hurt than good.

Bee's insides clenched at the sight of Sam's pained expression and Ratchet's guilt-ridden visage.

"It's okay, Ratchet." Sam indicated. His head turned, meeting Bee. The yellow Autobot's worried appearance greeted him. "I'm fine, Bee. Really." He swore, not surprised when Bee answered by clutching more tightly to his hand.

The scanners finished the analysis, beams powering down. Examination successfully accomplished, the machine slid back into hidden cubby mounted into the ceiling. On a nearby computer terminal, data began streamed across the blue monitor, a variety of sums and long text filling the entire screen.

"Well, let's see..." Ratchet's optics narrowed, focusing on the screen, quickly downloading the information. Blue optics flared wide in surprise, a dash of confusion thrown in. "Oh..."

"What?" Bee asked, nervous by Ratchet's expression.

"What?" Sam echoed.

"Oh my..."

"Ratchet!" Bee and Sam butted into the medic's musing at the same time.

"Ah! Sorry." He apologized profusely. "I...I'm a bit overwhelmed by the results."

"Is it bad?"

"What's wrong?"

"How bad is it?"

"Nothing is wrong, Sam." Ratchet assured. "And Bumblebee, please do not assume the worst. You are going to fry your processors from constant worry. Not to mention you might make Sam even more nervous." He chastised.

"I'm nervous now!" Sam cried.

Between Bumblebee's panic and Sam's reactions towards his companion's dramatics, Ratchet was beginning to develop a migraine.

"Both of you calm down!" Ratchet snapped. "Before you overload your circuits and are forced into emergency stasis. I would rather avoid having to resuscitate two mechs when you are both completely capable of controlling yourselves."

Bee and Sam's mouths clicked shut, efficiently silenced by the medic's stern lecture.

"Are we both ready to calm down?" Ratchet inquired.

"Yes..." Both bots sighed, their shoulders drooped, firmly disciplined.

"Wonderful." Ratchet said in relief. "Now, Sam, as I was beginning to explain...Although the scans have showed several anomalies, you are in very fine health. There is nothing that is of immediate concern."

"What anomalies?" Bee interceded.

"...What about the other things that are an _inevitable_ concern?" Sam questioned.

Ratchet sighed. "Please let me finish."

"Sorry."

"Sorry, Ratchet."

_'These two are almost as bad as the twins.'_ Ratchet noted. He peered at the two closer. _'No, not as bad; they haven't managed to cause any explosions in my medic bay.'_

"There are a few concerns based on the scans. One of the main issues is that I can not determine what may have caused Sam's optics to excrete lubricants." He raised his hand, anticipating the onslaught of questions to come. "However, this is considered a good thing, because the scans show that there is no external or internal damage that would account for previous mentioned fluids.

"But the scans did show something that I never anticipated to see." His wards leaned closer, hanging on his every word. Ratchet made sure that he had Sam's full attention. "Sam, while you possess the physical features of a Cybertronian, I have noted that there are anomalies in your internal structures. To put more precisely, there are organic components tied into your Cybertronian body."

"What?" Bee yelped.

"What?!" Sam echoed.

Ratchet held his hands up in a peaceful manner. "From what I have gathered, the organic components appear to be of no harm -- as well as no good, since they do not appear to be hindering or contributing anything to your protoform. The presence of these materials is quite disconcerting, but they do not bear any major concerns. The only thing I could suggest is that we continue to monitor these components and see if there are any drastic changes."

"They're not any good?" Sam asked. "So, like human beings having a gallbladder? Those kind of organs; they're just there?"

Ratchet searched the Internet for the internal organ Sam used as an example. "Somewhat. Although unlike the gallbladder, the components are not an entire organ or separate organs. The organic components are similar to the skeletal muscles and connective tissue that forms the human body's framework."

"And you are certain that they will not harm Sam?" Bee asserted.

"I am very confident about this, Bumblebee. But I would like to run frequent scans in the future, just to be safe."

"More scans." Sam groaned, falling against the metal bed with a loud _clang_. "Love it, love it, want more of it."

Apparently, he was testing the medic's unfailing patience. Ratchet looked to be considering using a probe of an unfriendly nature during the next examination.

"Ratchet means well." Bumblebee offered in defense.

"I know." Sam lifted his hands, rubbing the palms against his optics, still not able to extinguish that particular human gesture. "It's the thought of all the scans that make me feel exhausted, that's all. I know that they're unavoidable especially since my systems are below mediocre." Sam's hand remained over his optics, blue lens gleaming between long fingers as he stared up at the ceiling in deep thought. "That's why Blackout was able to hack into my systems with hardly any effort."

"Your lack of experience and proper system firewalls may have contributed, but do not forget, Sam, that Blackout has possessed and used his abilities for over a millennia." Ratchet inserted his own musing into Sam's contemplation. "I doubt that you would be capable of downloading system defenses within a couple days that would make it possible to defend against such strength."

"Blackout is a parasite." Bumblebee supplemented, voice grown cold at the discussion about the dark mech. "On Cybertron during the era of the War he used his abilities to take down a small army of Autobots. A majority of those soldiers fell under his hand simply because he was merely exercising his hacking skills to sate his perversion."

"By perversion you mean he used those skills in order to rape those Autobots." Sam murmured.

"...Yes." Ratchet whispered. "Blackout is a...unique creature, to put it politely." He glanced over momentarily when Bee muttered a few favorite Cybertronian words to express words more suitable for the Decepticon. "From the moment his Spark was forged, many suspected that there was something not quite right about him. He didn't just enjoy inflicting pain on other mechs. It was more like there was a sick, twisted glee every time he managed to push his victim beyond the point of physical and mental breakdown. Before the War, few dared approached him, either because of fear or simply disgusted by his reputation. I am still shocked that Megatron would stoop so low as to approach such a creature and allow him to join his forces."

Blackout gave a new definition to a twisted, insatiable predator. Like a trapdoor spider, or a scorpion, he laid in wait, anticipating the next victim to stumble along his sights. Oh, how he waited for them. And when he pulled them in tight, snapping fangs and claws together...

"...He made them beg to die." Sam's optics dimmed, emitting a full-body shudder. Remembering... "They begged for Primus to save them. None of their brothers or sisters came, no matter how many times they begged for someone to save them."

Something had changing, shifting in the sands of time that slid between them. "Sam?" Bumblebee bent closer. He froze, concern stifling words, silent watcher while Sam appeared to shrink deep inside himself.

"Who told you this?" Ratchet demanded, shocked by information revealed. "Tell me, Sam. Who said such horrible things?"

"No one." Sam answered. "No one told me anything. I saw it. When Blackout was hacking into my systems, I guess I managed to trespass into one of his systems and stumble across an echo inside his memory banks." A sharp, acid laugh followed. "More than likely, he purposely showed me the memory, just like when he looped the video of Mikaela and my parents dying."

Bumblebee moaned softly in pain and mixed fury. _'That slaggin' bastard of a rust pit...'_ "Blackout showed you...he showed your parents, and Mikaela..."

"Yeah." Sam whispered.

"What else did you see?" Bumblebee shouted furiously at the medic in abrupt Cybertronian. "You know as well as I do what this information could mean! I'm sorry, but I need to know! Sam, I can not repair the damage that Blackout caused by showing you such horrible things...but I need to know what else he showed you. **What did you see?**"

Sam's optics fell, growing pitch black. It didn't take much effort to dredge up that terrible memory, no matter his struggles to suffocate the presence beneath its brackish surface. "I saw someone being attacked by Blackout. An Autobot." Sam's face grimaced, mimicking the victim's pained expression as he was drilled into the ground. "Blackout had set up an ambush, and simply waited for hours, maybe days. The Autobot didn't stand a chance."

"What did he look like?" Bumblebee interjected.

The smaller mech groaned, twisting his head left and right. "No...No, I don't want to see this again..." Sam's body shook fiercely, aching. Remembering his rapist's touch as the ghost in his head currently that familiar blade edge caress.

"Please, Sam." Ratchet begged, voice tightened by anguish at the thought of one of his deceased brothers suffering under Blackout's hands, while their newest charge suffered having recently been under the Decepticon's talons.

"The Autobot was young. He was a soldier, but hadn't been for very long..." Sam swallowed through the heaviness settling in his throat, gorge pulling tight. "His face...he was so afraid."

_'Just like me...Get him off! I'm so afraid...Someone, please help me, I don'twanttodie. Pleasesaveme.'_

"Sam, it's all right..." Bumblebee leaned over Sam, wrapping his arms around the mech's shoulders. "Please. I don't want you to punish yourself by forcing these memories to replay." He whispered, enfolding Sam within his arms to shield him from the phantom images hunting to make freshly healed wounds bleed anew yet again. "I don't want you to suffer anymore."

He was panting, gulping deep draughts of air. Body responding to the terror replaying in his head. "I have to...I don't want him to be forgotten...He deserves to be remembered, and not just another nameless victim." Sam pleaded, burying his face into the crook of Bee's neck. _'Okay...I'm okay...Calm down, Sam! Don't let this get to you...Don't let that spineless piece of shit dig his clutches in deeper by making you afraid to even think of his disgusting face!'_

"He was an Autobot. His face was tinted metallic red, and he had gold optics. He wore mostly red, but there was..." The effort was staggering, but he grit his teeth, forcing through the ghost memory. "Black...obsidian glass overlaid across his chest like an inverted rib cage. On his right forearm, strapped around his wrist, there was a broad gold band...no, it's badly worn, it was gold once, but now tarnished by age and use."

"Oh Primus, no..." Ratchet's hand rose to rest over his Spark. He damned his unbuckling demands to know the face of Blackout's victim. "_Ironback._" The name whispered with tenderness and agony.

"No, no, no, no." Bee keened softly. "Not again...Primus, not after everything Ironhide went through..."

"Ironhide?" Sam whispered, tasting the familiar name across his lips. His optics burned into life nova bright, sapphire-blue lens blinking against the black and yellow bodywork pressed along his cheek. He attempted to lift his face from Bee's metal flesh, but his friend's arms tightened further, not wanting to let him go. "Bee? What's wrong? What does Ironhide--"

"Stop, please!" Bee interrupted. "Don't ask..."

Ratchet shuddered, hands and shoulders using the bed parallel to Sam's to support his bulk, knees giving out from the shocking revelation. Sweet Primus, no..."Sam, I beg of you, do not mention anything that was just brought up to Ironhide. _Please_! I am asking as a friend, as a brother, do not say a word about this."

_CLANG!!_

The three mechs nearly leapt out of their metal bodies, spinning towards the doorway. Or in Sam's case, nearly falling off onto his aft end from his prone, awkward position hanging between Bee and the bed.

A large black fist was buried into the door's frame, twisting the damaged metal beneath an cast-iron fist. Ironhide's broad face contorted in a wounded, enraged grimace. "What did you say..." He whispered savagely.

"No, wait..." Ratchet implored, optics silently begging for the weapon's specialist to calm his rage. "Don't do this..."

Ironhide's fist pulled out from the damaged doorframe, and slammed into the connected wall, leaving a massive indent.

**"What did you say about Ironback!"**

TBC


End file.
